214 seconds/ Murder In The City

She put my hands in her back pocket and moved to South Africa. I was facing west. The band was shouting but we could still whisper. Everything we said was more important then the music that fed my youth, I no longer needed that food. Held down by the firm grasp of knowing she would probably get drunk and cry somewhere near the bathroom. We dined on insight. We drank from inspiration. I was a fool. Nothing has changed but the name of my age. Its gonna take an army to get me out of this hotel room. Good thing I got one. Baby boy, baby girl.